


Not Complicated

by Lenore



Category: Adam Lambert (Musician)
Genre: First Time, Frustration, M/M, Plot What Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-26
Updated: 2010-01-26
Packaged: 2017-10-13 02:52:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/132019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lenore/pseuds/Lenore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tommy's frustrated, and being surrounded by phallic fruit is the last straw.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Complicated

**Author's Note:**

> Here's another story inspired by my flist and my [](http://community.livejournal.com/picfor1000/profile)[**picfor1000**](http://community.livejournal.com/picfor1000/) picture, which is [here](http://www.flickr.com/photos/tresjoliestudios/2862741812/). It's not 1000 words, but whatever. Thanks to [](http://no-detective.livejournal.com/profile)[**no_detective**](http://no-detective.livejournal.com/) for the idea!

It never goes the same way twice. Of course it doesn't. Adam and "predictable" don't belong in the same universe. Sometimes Tommy gets a hot mouth sucking on his neck. Or a hand groping his thigh. Or a dirty leer from across the stage.

Tonight, it's a full-body press, Adam's length plastered against Tommy's back, hard-on hot and snug against Tommy's ass (because, yeah, Adam gets off on performing, like literally), hips pumping, the friction of leather against denim. The women in the audience scream their heads off, and when Adam finally moves away, he gives Tommy a private little wink.

Like foreplay. Only not. Because this is as much action as Tommy is going to get out of him. Sometimes Tommy regrets ever saying, "Hey, you can grab me if you want. Rock and roll's a whore. Got to tart it up, right?" But, honestly, who would have guessed that Adam would miss the completely obvious, if silent parenthetical to that offer: (And then you can take me back to your room and rip the clothes off me and throw me down on your bed and do whatever the hell you want, as many times as you like.) Is Tommy seriously the only one here who knows how to fill in the blanks?

They do three encores, because the crowd has a palpable will, loud as all hell, and if it were up to them, this show would never end. By the time they leave the stage for good, Adam is smiling like he's never going to stop, face glowing with triumph and sheer fucking joy, and that's so goddamned beautiful that Tommy can't help himself. He grabs Adam by the lapels and hauls him into a kiss.

Of course Adam is, like, five times bigger than Tommy, and he can only be manhandled with his permission, but he comes easily, smiling against Tommy's lips, stroking his fingers through Tommy's hair. Tommy puts his tongue in Adam's mouth, something he does at every available opportunity, hoping that this time Adam will get it. _Naked, your bed, right now._

Adam pulls away and rests his forehead against Tommy's, breathing heavily. "Good show, huh, baby?"

Tommy blinks in disbelief. _I just had my tongue in your mouth!_

Adam gets called away to do some interview thing. Tommy watches him go with a profound sense of _what the fuck?_ Tommy's got no illusions about himself. He knows he's not complicated. He's sure as hell not subtle, and he's never had a problem getting laid in his life. So what the fuck is he doing wrong with Adam?

* * *

They have a hotel that night, which is a good thing, since Tommy prefers to be sulky by himself. He opens the door to his room and is greeted by the sight of…well, fruit basket isn't the right term. There's no container. It's more of an installation on top of the dresser, with an entire circle of artfully arranged bananas. Tommy drops his bag and stares. He's drowning in dick-shaped objects, like even the hotel concierge can see what Adam manages to be utterly oblivious to and has sent up a consolation prize. _Hey, so you're not getting fucked by a gorgeous rock star, that really sucks, but maybe you can work off a little of that sexual tension with some phallic fruit._ Or, actually, a lot of that sexual tension, since there are eighteen bananas. Tommy counts them.

Tommy keeps thinking that if he just pushes hard enough—sitting on Adam's lap at parties and grinding against him at clubs and kissing him whenever the hell he feels like it—Adam will eventually get fed up with the teasing and do something about it. Or perceived teasing, actually, since Tommy is ready to fling off his clothes any time Adam crooks his finger. But, no, Adam just kisses back, sweetly, sweetly, and pets Tommy's hair, and smiles the way people do at puppies, as if he's always wanted to have a pet bassist.

"Shut up," he tells the bananas, which seem to be mocking him.

And that's just it, the last straw. He's talking to _fruit_. This has to stop.

He stomps down the hall and bangs on Adam's door. "It's me."

Adam answers, looking first startled and then concerned. "Are you okay?"

He's washed his makeup off, leaving bare Adam face. God. That's almost more naked than actual nakedness, and Tommy's cock likes it a lot.

"Can I come in?" he asks, already pushing his way inside.

"Sure." Adam takes a step back, closes the door. "What—"

Tommy strips his shirt up over his head and tosses it away. Adam lifts an eyebrow. Tommy kicks off his pants. His cock curves out from his body. "I'm not a fucking tease."

"I never thought—hey, maybe you should put your clothes back on? Because we work together, and probably this isn't such a good idea?" Adam's eyebrows knit together. "Not to mention that you're straight. Do you even know what you're asking me for?"

Tommy snorts. "Do I look confused to you? Also, you're the one who goes around calling me straight to any reporter who will listen. Not me."

"Because I'm trying to protect you! And," he waves his hand, the light catching on his rings, "respect your sexuality! I know you like girls. I'm trying not to cross, like, multiple lines here."

Tommy looks to the ceiling. Adam is way too smart to be this stupid. "Yeah, I like girls. But," he takes Adam's hand and wraps it around his erection, "I like you too. And when have you ever cared about lines anyway?"

Adam's mouth turns up, one corner of it, adorably. "Not too often."

"Yeah. So." Tommy licks his lips.

Adam hooks an arm around Tommy's waist. "Yeah."

It doesn't take long for Tommy to realize that Adam actually has been respecting his so-called heterosexuality, because clearly Tommy's never had the full-on Adam Lambert experience before. Not even that wild ride of a kiss at the AMAs felt like this, like Adam was trying to crawl into his skin and consume him. It totally works for Tommy, since he wants to climb Adam like a tree and ride him until he doesn't remember his own damned name.

He tugs at Adam's T-shirt. "Off! Come on. I want skin."

Adam laughs, low and musical, and strips off everything. Tommy kicks away the pants with special viciousness. They've been like a freakin' fortress standing between him and what he's been dying to get his hands on. Now that he finally has Adam naked, he takes a moment to enjoy it. Adam is big and gorgeous and _right there_ , and Tommy can't stop staring.

"Fuck," he says for lack of a better way to put it.

"Yeah?" Adam moves closer, runs his hand down Tommy's side, over his hip. "You too."

"Good, good." Tommy tumbles Adam back onto the bed and clambers on top of him. "Where are the condoms?" Adam smiles up at him, eyes bright and bemused and so blue Tommy could fall into them. "Yeah, whatever, it's been foreplay since the day we met. Condoms?"

Adam laughs and nods toward the nightstand. Tommy opens the package with his teeth and rolls the condom onto Adam. There's lube, and Tommy smears a bunch of it over Adam's dick, and shoves slick fingers into himself. Probably, he should do a better job with this whole prep thing, but what the hell ever. He's tired of waiting.

He slings his leg over Adam's body and sits down and shit! Maybe patience is a fucking virtue after all. Adam is big, _huge_ , and Tommy can't breathe.

"Hey, hey. Easy." Adam rubs his hands soothingly over Tommy's thighs.

Tommy grits his teeth. He's wanted this, and he's going to have this, and…he lets out a shaky breath when Adam is all the way inside. His legs wobble a little as he lifts himself up and lowers himself back down on Adam's cock.

"You are so damned gorgeous." Adam's eyes shine up at him. "I should have done this a long time ago."

Tommy bites his lip. "You totally fucking should have."

There's always a moment when Tommy's getting fucked when the experience goes from _oh shit, what the hell was I thinking_ to _yeah, yeah, baby give it to me_. When Tommy gets there with Adam, his eyes fly shut and his hands curl into fists and it's like he's got the Fourth of July going off inside him. He feels white-hot and sparkly all over. Anyone who claims size doesn't matter is a big, stupid liar.

"You like that." Adam smiles up at him, and it's so not a question.

Tommy answers with his body, grinding down onto Adam's cock more emphatically.

Adam's eyes go a darker shade of midnight, a spark of challenge in them, and he grabs Tommy's hips and flips them over.

"You want it harder? I'll give it to you harder, baby." And then he's pounding into Tommy, trailing sloppy kisses up his throat and onto his mouth.

Tommy holds on, fingers digging into Adam's shoulders, and kisses back until he's dizzy and panting. He's got Adam's freckles beneath his hands, and he has the fleeting thought that he'd like to touch them all, count them, get to know each one intimately. But it'll have to wait. Right now he's too busy writhing on Adam's cock and begging in a strained voice, "Come on, come _on_!"

He slides his hand between their bodies, grabs at his cock, and Adam nods approvingly. "Yeah, you're going to come first."

And oh shit! Tommy totally is, yelling out, "Fuck, Adam," and spilling hot-wet against their bellies.

"God. Tommy." Adam goes at him even harder, his thrusts erratic and off-rhythm, close and getting closer by the second.

Tommy pulls at his shoulders, urging him on. Getting fucked after he comes is that sweet, dizzying line between pain and pleasure, and Tommy loves the hell out of it. Not to mention that it's _Adam_ making him feel like this, which is just—fuck.

When Adam finally comes, he's oddly silent, back bowed, his body tensing, face pressed against Tommy's neck. Tommy pets his hair until Adam finally rolls off him and ditches the condom. Tommy is all ready to claim he's too fucked out to get up and put his pants on and go back to his own room. But Adam settles against the pillows and gives Tommy an intimate little smile, like he's not planning on kicking Tommy out of bed any time soon.

Tommy takes this as an invitation and snuggles closer, lifts his chin for a kiss. Adam obliges, humming a little under his breath as he licks at Tommy's bottom lip. He threads his fingers through Tommy's hair, rubs his thumb along Tommy's jaw. Tommy leans in to the touch, and if he were a cat (or a complete dork), he'd be purring right now. He has no idea what this is or where it'll go from here, if any place. All he knows is that he likes it, and he likes Adam.

It's a good thing he's not complicated.


End file.
